Not Alone
by EastAnglia
Summary: Hope arises from tragedy. How will Alex and Gene cope with startling news? GALEX.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Yes, I've been very busy! This isn't the way I see the show going, or even the way I'd want it to go, but I thought it would be an interesting idea to explore. Mostly fluffy GALEX. This is the first brief, rather unfluffy part of three parts. I hope you enjoy it!_

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A voice, calling to her from somewhere in the distance.

"Mum? Can you hear me? Wake up, Mum."

Alex's eyes snapped open. It was still the middle of the night, surely, but the room was awash in daylight. She blinked in confusion and became aware of the small figure at the end of the bed. It was Molly, wearing the dress they had chosen together for her birthday party. "Molls? Is that you?"

"Yes, Mummy. It's me."

Alex pulled herself to sitting and tears immediately sprang to her eyes. Molly had come to her before, but always somewhere just out of reach in the corner of her vision. When Alex would turn to her, she would vanish as if she had never really been there. Now, here she was, as clear as day. She could actually hear her footsteps and then feel the mattress sag slightly as Molly crossed to her and sat on the edge of her bed. "You're here! You're really here!" A tearful laugh caught in her throat as she reached out to take Molly's face in her hands. "I can touch you. You're real!"

She threw her arms around Molly and drew her in tight, and the sense memories came flooding back to her. The familiar sweet-berry scent of her daughter's favourite shampoo, Molly's warm, soft skin against her own, all the things that she had missed so desperately. "I don't understand. How…why are you…?" But she stopped herself. Molly was _here_. They were together again. Did it matter why?

She held her out at arm's length and cupped Molly's cheek with her hand.

Something was wrong. Molly looked back at her with dark eyes.

"What is it, Molls? Please tell me. You're scaring me," Alex said in a rush.

"I think you know."

And suddenly, it was if the horrible knowledge had flooded into her consciousness. "Oh, God. I'm dead, aren't I?"

"Yes, Mum. You've just died," Molly said with evenness. "The doctors tried to operate, but they couldn't save you. You never woke up, and so they turned off the machines."

Alex nodded once and blinked back tears. She dreaded asking the inevitable question. "What's going to happen to me?"

"You're going to stay here. For at least a little while. Maybe longer. That's how it works. You'll understand someday."

"And you?"

Molly hesitated. "I'm going back now."

"No…no…please! Please! I just found you again, Molly! Please! Don't go!" Alex's voice rose to a panicky peak.

"I have to." Molly stood and pulled her hand from Alex's grip. Her eyes were sad but resigned. "I'll be alright. I'll miss you awfully, Mum. But Evan and Dad will look after me. They will. You have to believe that. Please don't worry about me."

Alex let out a ragged sob and stretched a hand out to her daughter. Molly's image already seemed to be slipping away, as if down a long, dark tunnel. "Please! I love you, Molly. I need you! Please stay with me!"

"I can't."

"Will I see you again?"

"Someday. Maybe."

"Please. I don't want to be alone."

Molly gave her a curious half-smile. "You're not alone."

Alex frowned. "Who? Gene?"

She shook her head slowly. "That's not what I mean. There's another."

"Who? Molly, please!" The light in the room began to fade, and with it, Molly's ghostly image.

"I think you know that, too."

And then she was gone.

Alex bolted up in bed with a wrenching cry. The room had dropped into darkness again. Her heart thudded wildly.

"Just a dream…" she whispered to herself.

But then she somehow knew as she sat here shivering in her darkened room that everything Molly had said was true. She was dead. The bullet from Arthur Layton's gun had ended her life and dropped her into this world, apart from everyone and everything she knew and loved.

Her body began to shake with hard, abandoned sobs. She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth in a vain attempt at self-comfort. Her perfect, precious little girl was gone. Alex was dead, stranded here. Alone.

_You're not alone..there's another._

She stopped suddenly, Molly's parting words ringing in her ears.

_I think you know…_

The days and dates began to speed through Alex's mind as she counted backwards through the last few weeks. And then she stopped on that date a month before and what had happened in this room.

"Oh, God…" she said. "It's true."

Her eyes shut slowly, and she ran a gentle hand over the soft curve of her belly.


	2. Chapter 2

She never returned to sleep that night, but lay curled in her bed trying to process the swirl of competing emotions. She grieved for the loss of her own life, the loss of her darling Molly, but there was also a new life and all the promise and hope it held.

As morning finally came, her tears eased, and with it much of her fear and grief. One life could never replace another. She would always feel the pain of Molly's loss, but she knew there was another precious, perfect being that needed her strength and resolve.

Still, it was hard pulling herself from her bed the next morning, not so much from the lack of real sleep, but from the growing dread at having to face Gene. Having to tell him. He was going to be a father.

She wasn't really sure where they stood with each other. Feeling lost and alone, she had invited him into her bed one night a month earlier. He was tender and gentle, surprisingly so. Afterwards, she had curled up against his chest, and he had talked softly about Sam and Manchester. It was lovely, and she'd had hope something might come of it.

But the hours at work had been long, and something always seemed to come up at the last minute. There was the occasional drink at Luigi's, the occasional brush of his fingers against hers that the others weren't meant to see, but they always went their separate ways at the end of the evening. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be. Perhaps it was just as well.

How, then, to explain this?

As she approached, she was aware, all the way from the corridor outside, that he was talking to someone and that he wasn't happy. She turned the corner into CID with a deep breath. He was in his office on the phone, and his voice had that strained quality it always did when he was talking to the Superintendent.

She crossed the floor, returning Shaz's chirpy greeting with a muttered reply, and pushed open the door to his office.

"Yes, sir…yes, sir…I will…" He rubbed at his temples. "It won't happen again, you have my word. Goodbye, sir."

Gene gave the phone a hard slam into the cradle. He stood and began to rummage for something on his desk through the mess of wadded-up racing forms and takeaway wrappers.

"What is it, Drake?" he barked without looking up.

She thought for a moment, given his mood, it would be better to turn and go, but she feared if she didn't tell him now, she never would.

"Can I have a word?"

"Can it wait? I'm busier than a dog with nine knobs at the moment."

"Actually, no it can't." She turned and closed his office door and shut the blinds.

He finally looked up with a frown. "What in the…?"

She tried speaking as calmly as she could. "Gene, I'm about to tell you something that is probably going to upset you…"

"Oh, now, _this_ should be good." He folded his arms across his chest.

She took a deep breath before speaking. "I'm…pregnant."

There was a moment of utter stillness. He looked at her unblinkingly, and then his shoulders sank and he slumped forward with his hands on the desk. "Fuckin'ell…"

She watched him there with his head hanging down and let the news sink into him. He finally lifted his head back up. His voice was small. "It's mine?"

She nodded softly. "Yes."

"You sure?"

"Of course I am! What do you think?"

"I don't know what you get up to! You're the one swanning around with Danny Moore and that tosser from Luigi's!"

"FYI, Gene," she said sharply, "Nothing happened between me and Danny Moore, and that…_tosser_ was a one-night stand!"

"So was you and me!" he bellowed.

"I didn't know that at the time." She looked away with hurt in her eyes. "Look, this isn't the way I imagined this conversation going. Please let's not argue about this right now."

He said nothing but rubbed the back of his neck and began to pace behind his desk. "So…what? What do you…are you…?" He seemed unable to form a complete thought, not that she was surprised. She'd had more time with the idea, and even she could still barely process it.

"I'm going to have it. I'm going to keep the baby," she said quietly but firmly. "It'll be hard, but it can be done."

He came around to the front of the desk, where he lowered himself on the corner, still wearing the same stunned expression. "You don't have to do that. If you want me to marry you…I'll marry you." He mumbled it under his breath, eyes to the floor, but he looked up at her, square-jawed and resolute.

She looked backed at him, wide-eyed, for a moment and then found herself dissolving into a brief fit of laughter.

"_Marry_ you?"

"What's so _funny?_"

"I'm sorry..it's just…" She breathed in through her nose to control the giggles and fanned herself with her hand. It was endearing, really, and if she didn't have at least something to smile about, she would have dissolved into a puddle of tears on the floor. "It's 1981, not 1951."

"I'm a man. I take responsibility for my mistakes!"

"Is that what you think this is? A mistake?"

"Don't you? A female DI goes and gets herself preggers. What the bloody hell were you thinking?"

"Number one, Gene, you can't be that ignorant of biology. You were there, too," she said in a harsh whisper and raised an admonishing finger to her lips. "And number two, keep your voice down."

"You think that lot out there won't find out soon enough?" He gestured with a wild swing of his arm toward the door. "Let's give 'em all the good news, shall we?"

"Gene, don't you dare!'

She made a move to block the door, but he beat her to it. He flung the door open and stood there in the doorway with his hands on his hips. Heads were raised from desks and turned expectantly toward the Guv.

"Attention, ladies and gentleman, an announcement." He gave her a small, defiant look from the corner of his eye, and she knew there was no stopping him. "Our very own Inspector Drake has found herself in the family way. Apparently by Yours Truly. I have done the honourable thing and offered to marry her, but she has turned me down. Are there any questions?"

He was met by stunned silence. "Right. Carry on." He strode back into his office to where he was met by her wounded, tearful gaze.

"You bastard…" Her voice was broken and her chin began to quiver.

She was frightened and vulnerable, and he knew he should apologise. But apologies only ever came from him after a thorough determination of the best way to apologise without having to actually say the words. He turned and went to pour himself a glass of whiskey to buy himself a minute or two.

He turned back around to an empty office just in time to see the doors out of CID swing shut again. A dozen set of eyes fell on him and then darted quickly away, as if they hadn't been looking at him at all.

He sighed and put the glass on his desk without taking a drink and followed her out, where he caught her as she left the building.

"Drake! Wait!" She ignored him and headed down the steps. "Alex! Wait a bloody minute, will you?"

She kept moving. "Don't, Gene. Just…_don't_. There's nothing you can say right now. I'm going home."

"Alex!" He caught up with her and reached out for her arm. She finally stopped and turned to him impatiently.

"_What?_"

Now that he had her attention, he realised he had no idea what to say. He looked around as officers streamed in and out of the building and cast a curious eye toward Hunt and his DI arguing on the sidewalk.

"Jesus, I've just got a kick in the bollocks! I don't know what I'm meant to say, all right?"

"What was that up there? You didn't have to do that," she said, more hurt than angry. "Do you think this is easy for me?" She reached out and landed her open palms on his chest. "I've got no one else here, Gene. _No one_. I was hoping for at least a little support from you."

"Support? I told you I'd marry you! What more do you bloody want?"

"Is that your answer? 'Let's go down the register office, Bolls, and everything will be tickety-boo!'" she said with false cheerfulness. "I don't need your money. I don't need you to give my baby a last name. I need _you,_ Gene. _You."_

She stood there blinking back tears, scared, and trying not to show it. He looked uneasily up and down the sidewalk. "I'm a miserable bastard. My dad was a crap father. And his dad before him. Is that what you want for…?" His eyes fell to her middle, and his voice softened. "Is that what you want for the baby?"

She smiled sadly. For a brief moment, a moment that Gene Hunt would never admit to anyone, she saw the abused little boy in his eyes. But then the moment passed, and he was the Manc Lion again, proud and invincible. "Just because your father used you as a punching bag, doesn't mean you'll do the same thing. That's not you, Gene. I saw how you were with Donny and…the little girl. You wouldn't hurt your own child." She reached out and took his hand. "You told me once…the day Tim and Caroline Price died…you told me you were there because you were needed. Well, I need you, Gene. I need you to be there."

He shifted his feet the way he did when he was uncomfortable and out of his element. He sighed and went on in a weary, resigned voice. "I'm doing me best, Alex."

He watched as she bit her lip and looked at him through narrowed eyes. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but then her eyelids fluttered, and her knees buckled. Her hand began to slide from his; he caught it and pulled her back to her feet. Her face had gone pale, and her skin was cold and damp. "You're not well…" he found himself saying with genuine alarm.

She shook her head. "No…I'm fine…It's only…I haven't eaten since last night."

He slid his arm around her waist. "Can't have that. Got to keep your strength up," he said quietly. "I'm taking you home."

She nodded, and still speaking soft words, he moved her to his car.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: I had originally mapped this out as a 3 part story, but the last part was too clunky, so I split it up. This is the third of four parts. I hope you enjoy it!_

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He was needed, and he was there. As he said he would be.

Not in the 21st century father kind of way, of course. He'd refused any child birthing classes and made it clear he would not be changing any nappies, but he'd stayed up until 3AM one night and taught her some colourful new expletives trying to assemble the baby's cot, and when the OB thought something might be wrong with the baby, he'd gone with her for all the tests and scans and she'd cried with relief on his shoulder when everything came back negative.

A man faced up to things. It's what he did, and he could whinge about it or get on with it. It wasn't the best time in his life for a baby, not with Scarman sharpening the axe, and he didn't exactly look forward to being the only dad at the Nativity play in a bloody wheelchair. But she was having his baby, and he'd be a better father than his own, and that was the end of it. He certainly didn't want to sit around in some poxy dads' class with a load of prats talking about their feelings. His feelings on the subject, if he admitted to having any, didn't enter into it.

His relationship with Alex was another matter. He'd wanted to shag her the minute she walked into Luigi's in those tight jeans and that white leather jacket. What man wouldn't? But she was a bird. He hadn't expected her to be clever and funny on top of it. He hadn't expected to like _her_, to respect her even. He'd just started to sort through those feelings when he'd found out she was pregnant. Her face began to soften, and her body grew fuller. She was…Christ, she beautiful, and he wanted to keep her safe and what the bloody hell was he supposed to do with _that_?

He missed her. She'd been placed on desk duty digging through closed CID files immediately after he'd decided to announce her pregnancy. She had fought it, but in the end, it was the right decision, and she had actually solved some cases with that psychiatry hippie bollocks of hers. She never came out with them anymore, so he rarely saw her.

He did his duty, stopped by, did all the things he should, and even left jars of stuffed olives on her desk after she said she'd been craving them, but it wasn't the same. Yes, he missed her. He missed the evenings at Luigi's, the banter, even the sparks that would fly when they would argue over a case. He missed the passion. But missing her meant he didn't have to see her, and not seeing her meant he didn't have to think about her or the baby, and life could continue as it had. Which suited him fine.

Then one evening after a night at Luigi's, he'd gone upstairs and knocked on her door. She answered wearing a nightie, a red thing that fell over her soft curves, and Christ she was lovely and terrifying standing there.

"Gene…" she said in some surprise.

He tried to act casual and put on a "just in the neighbourhood" look. "I…hadn't seen you in a coupla days, so I thought I'd see how you were getting on."

"Fine…fine. Everything's on track. Six more weeks to go." She smiled, and he nodded. "I'm afraid I can't offer you anything stronger than orange juice, but would you like to…" She opened her door a little wider and gestured to the lounge behind her.

"Yeah…sure…alright," he said with some uneasiness and stepped inside.

"I was just watching an old movie. Some Western." She crossed to turn the television off, but he followed her into the room.

"Magnificent Seven!" he said with enthusiasm. "Don't mind if I do."

He kicked off his boots, and she curled up against him on the sofa. There was something warm and familiar about it. His arm had begun to go to sleep, pinned between her and the sofa, but she had dozed off, and he couldn't move it without waking her. So, he sat there until her eyes fluttered awake during the end credits, and she looked up at him. They said nothing, but something had changed. There had been a subtle shift, feelings had returned, and he found himself leaning down to her and brushing his lips against hers questioningly until she reached up as if in answer and pulled him closer.

His heart began to race. This was an unfamiliar, unidentifiable feeling. His hands moved from her face and down to her waist where he became suddenly aware of her bump between them.

"Sorry, sorry," he said jumping back.

"It's all right. You didn't hurt me."

"Oh. I was just…" He made a nervous, wordless gesture. She suddenly let out a little ripple of surprised laughter and he looked back at her with concern. "You all right?"

"He's..or she's very active tonight. Here." She took his hand before he could say no and placed it on the curve of her belly. "Can you feel him?"

He sat there for a minute, a sense of wonder forming in his eyes as the baby moved gently beneath his hand. But then he was aware of a violent movement. The outline of a knee or an elbow poked out through the fabric, and he yanked his hand away. "Strewth. It's like something out of _Alien_."

But she only laughed, and he smiled back, and he knew they had both passed the point where they could pretend they were just going to be friends and co-parents. It was only a matter of time, really. They were going to be together. She knew it; he knew it.

Which made things much, much worse.

It was a week or so later when she'd invited him over. She'd plied him with drink and dinner, and afterwards, Alex chattered on while Gene sat glassy-eyed with a beer. The sofa and coffee table were covered with books with names like "Britain's Best Baby Names for 1982". She'd dog-eared the pages and put checks next to names like Sophie and Charlotte.

"For a girl, Katie or Emma. Those are quite nice."

He swallowed a mouthful of drink and squirmed uncomfortably. "If you like."

"For a boy…well, I was wondering how you felt about Sam." She smiled at him. It was fitting, and it should have been a nice moment between them, but all he could feel at this moment was rising anger and frustration that he'd tried to keep at bay for almost nine months.

He was dying for a fag, but she wouldn't let him smoke around her anymore. What the bloody hell was he, the Manc Lion, doing picking out baby names?

"You can name 'im whatever you want," he said impatiently. "It's your baby."

She closed the book on her lap and folded her hands. "I was under the impression this was _our_ baby."

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don't think I do."

He slammed the beer down on the coffee table. "I was doing fine on me own without you. Or a baby."

"Do you think I planned this to _snare_ you?" She looked at him with wide eyes and he could see the tears begin to form there.

_Oh, no. Don't cry. I can't bloody take it._

"Do you have any idea of what I've given up? Do you have any idea what I've lost? Or do you ever spare a thought for anyone else in that thick northern skull of yours?"

Yes, she was crying. Very real, fat tears. He knew he should stay. He knew she was scared and alone and needed him to hold her hand and let her cry. Instead, he rose and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair.

"Where are you going?"

"Out. Home. I don't know."

She blotted at her tears with the back of her sleeves and crossed to the door. "Don't do this, Gene. Please, let's just talk about it."

"I don't want to bloody talk about it!" he roared as he turned on her. "Aren't you listening to me? I don't want to talk about nappies and bottles and fuck-all. I don't want to pick posh bloody baby names from some soddin' book! Don't you understand? I'm not ready for any of this!"

He'd said it; it was out, and there was no taking it back. He stood there, breathing hard with his hands on his hips, looking at her with equal measures of regret and defiance.

She looked back at him, too shocked, too hurt to speak. Then she shut her eyes and ran a hand over her bump. "Well, Gene. I think you'd better get yourself ready," she said slowly through clenched teeth. "My water just broke."

She needed him, and he was there. Fetching her suitcase and muttering encouraging words as he helped her to the car. He never thought the backseat of the Quattro would see a woman panting and moaning with her legs in the air without him being there, too, but that was the absurdity of his life now.

He'd buggered it up. He'd lost all chance. She'd never have him now, this beautiful, smart-arsed, maddening woman he hadn't been able to stop thinking about for months. He lost the chance to be the man his father never was to his child and its mother. And it wasn't until he'd lost it that he knew how much he had wanted it.

He sat in the waiting room as they wheeled her off. She'd called his name as they did, and her voice was small and frightened. But he had only waved at her dumbly.

It was an eternity in that little room. He paced and cursed himself and would've injected the coffee directly into his veins if he could have.

Finally, sometime after three in the mornin, someone came into the room with that bland smile that gives nothing away. "Mr. Hunt? You can see your wife now."

"She's not my…" he started, but then bit his lip. "Never mind."

The walk down the corridor seemed endless. He wasn't a man given to that kind of thing, but he imagined the worst.

_She said 'you can see your wife now' not 'your wife and child'…something's happened…what if something's happened...Jesus…_

Then he turned the corner into her room and Alex sat up in bed holding a little bundle in her arms. She looked up at him with an exhausted, radiant smile, and she was beautiful. "It's a boy. We have a son."

He suddenly felt his legs grow weak beneath him. He stumbled into the room and lowered himself gingerly on the bed next to them. "Hello, Sam, m' boy," he whispered, and the baby stirred. "You're a good-looking lad. You take after your mum."

She reached out her arms. "Here. You can hold him."

A horrified look came over his face, and he drew back with hands raised. "No, no, no…"

"It's all right, Gene."

He swallowed hard, and Alex placed the sleeping newborn in his arms and then rested her head against his shoulder. He held him there for a moment, as if he were holding a china doll, and then he smiled. "I'm your dad," he said softly.

Alex had never seen Gene Hunt cry, not before and not since, not even two years later when Sam spiked a dangerously high fever, and they'd spent an agonising night at the hospital until he was out of the woods, but even if Gene would always deny it, she was almost certain that at that moment, she'd seen tears in his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

It was Sunday, and by a stroke of luck, the first truly glorious day of spring that year. She sat on a bench on the Heath with her bare legs stretched out in front of her, head tilted back towards the sun. There was a book folded open on her chest, but she found every time she reached the bottom of the page, she could remember nothing of what she'd read. The sun and the light scent of the newly-budded flowers were too distracting. The book could wait. Days like this in England were too rare.

She was enjoying the solitude when she became aware of a noise in the grove of bushes next to her. She raised her head lazily and turned towards it. There was the sound of the crunching of some old leaves and then animated voices: the shriek of a child's laughter mingled with the gruff sounds of a man.

She smiled in anticipation as the path wound its way out of the bushes, and they emerged. The child was riding on shoulders, and the father held onto they boy's feet and carried a football tucked under one arm. The child's face lit up when he saw her.

"Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!"

"There are my handsome men!"

Gene grabbed Sam by the waist and hoisted him off his shoulders. The boy spread his arms out like an airplane and laughed happily as his father swung him in circles and lowered him gently to the ground. He jumped to his feet and ran to give his mother a grubby hug.

"Did you have fun? What did you do?"

"We played football, and Daddy said a naughty word."

"Oi, Sam!" Gene called out in mock protest and the little boy giggled. Alex turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

"Did he, now? Well, Daddy is a very naughty man, and I don't think he shall have any ice cream after lunch." She rummaged through the basket on the bench next to her and handed Sam and Gene their lunch. Their son toddled off to chase a butterfly through the grass with his sandwich in hand.

She clicked her tongue disapprovingly at Gene. "He's going to take that to nursery, you know. Wait 'til I start getting calls from other mummies about all the clever new words Sam Hunt is teaching their children."

He smiled back at her sheepishly and sat and unwound the headphones from around his neck and set his Walkman down as he sat next to her on the bench. She was surprised to see him with it. She'd given it to him for Christmas the year before, and he rarely used it.

"What are you listening to?"

"Some rubbish," he grunted.

She slid in underneath his arm and they ate their sandwiches with their heads lolled back towards the sun.

It had taken them three years to get to this spot. She missed Molly desperately sometimes, but Sam was a constant joy. She was happy. _They_ were happy.

Luigi's wasn't the best place to raise a baby, but after Sam was born, it would do until she could find something else. Gene had offered to stay and sleep on the sofa in the days after they brought Sam home, and he never left.

She tried to pinpoint the moment when she fell in love with him. She supposed she'd always been attracted to him, the way women tend to be attracted, for better or worse, to confident, swaggering, sexy beasts like Gene Hunt. But for all his swagger, she _liked_ him, too. He was gentle and funny and smart, and she found to her surprise that she enjoyed his company. But that was lust, that was companionship. This was something else.

She supposed it happened one night when Sam was three months old or so. There was nothing particularly unusual about that night. They'd taken Sam to be Christened that morning, and then they'd had a nice lunch downstairs with everyone there. Alex had watched with affection as Gene carried Sam around the restaurant and showed him off proudly. It was a perfect day, and she'd gone to bed feeling happy and content.

She woke in the middle of the night to the sound of Sam crying for his midnight feeding. Gene had stumbled in bleary-eyed and scooped the baby up and carried him over so she didn't have to get out of bed. And that's probably the moment she knew she loved him.

It was stiflingly hot the next night. She'd opened the windows to let some air in, but the noise from the street kept her awake. She tossed and turned, the thoughts in her mind churning, until she finally rose and crept into the lounge.

Gene was lying on his back under a thin sheet, staring up at the ceiling with his arm tucked behind his head. He said nothing when he saw her but slowly propped himself up on his elbows. She crossed to him and knelt wordlessly beside the sofa, where he tucked a loose curl behind her ear.

"Come to bed, Gene," she finally said in a low, throaty whisper.

As with the one and only other time they had made love, he was gentle, letting her set the pace. It had been a long time, and although she had tried to get back into her pre-pregnancy shape, her body had changed. She was feeling unsure and vulnerable, and he seemed to sense that.

But then as he let her know with his mouth and his body that she was still beautiful, her confidence grew. There was an urgency and intensity, as if they were making up for lost time. Afterwards, they lay breathless and spent as a breeze billowed the curtains in and blew across their damp bare skin.

It was the last time he slept on the sofa.

Several months later, Shaz had agreed to watch Sam so he could take Alex to dinner for her birthday. He seemed distracted, and midway through the meal, just as she put a wine glass to her lips, he asked the question.

"What do you say we get married, Bolly?"

She thought it was a carefully-timed joke, and she carefully set her glass down with a laugh. He was sitting forward in his chair, unsmiling. "Oh, God, you're serious." She took a careful breath, but there was no way to answer this delicately. "Gene, I…I don't think that's a good idea."

"You love me, don't you?"

She smiled wryly. "Yes, God help me, Gene, I love you."

"So?" He shrugged. She loved him, so they should get married. It was that simple to him as that.

"Well…for one…there's your…_lifestyle,_" she started carefully. "You drink like a fish, you smoke like a chimney, my God, your LDL must be astronomical."

"I'm good enough to father your child. Good enough to take into your bed."

"It's not that simple, Gene," she groaned and covered her face with her hands. "I know there are no guarantees in life. No one knows that better than I do. But I want a husband and father for Sam I can be reasonably sure is actually going to be here in 20 years."

He looked down at his plate and began to attack his steak with his knife and fork. He was angry and hurt. "Gene. Tell me the truth. Do you really want to get married?"

"Maybe you buy into all the feminist free love bollocks, but I think a man should be married to the mother of his child."

She sighed. So that was it. Ever the man of honour. "When we get married, Gene…_if_ we get married. I want to do it because you love us and you want to spend the rest of your life with me and Sam and you won't let anything stop you. Not because of societal norms or your admirable but misplaced sense of duty."

He looked up from his plate and nodded once but said nothing. The subject did not come up again.

But on days like this, it didn't seem to matter, and life was almost perfect. Almost.

"Marry me."

Her head snapped up from the bench. She had just taken a bite of her sandwich and a splodge had oozed out onto her dress. She turned and looked at him with stunned eyes. He was smiling at her, with one eye shut against the sun.

"I can't believe you're going to ask me that while I've just dribbled coronation chicken all down my front."

"I thought I'd catch you unawares, and you'd say yes. It's all part of my cunning plan."

She swallowed her mouthful of food. "Gene…I don't…it's just so…" _Sudden_, she was going to say, but stopped. They'd been together three years, and he'd already asked her twice. It was anything but sudden.

"Why not? I've cut me hair, dropped a stone, cut back on the drinking…"

"You still smoke like a chimney."

"_Shit._"

She smiled at him and kissed him. He bristled slightly but then smiled back at her with a wan half-smile. "I want to marry you because I want to, not just because I should. I want to be a dad to Sam. I want us to be a family. Think about it, alright?"

She had tried to pass it all off as a joke, but his sincerity startled her. She blinked back at him and nodded. "I will."

He nodded back at her and rose from the bench. "Alright, lad, you ready for an ice cream?"

Sam clapped gleefully and ran to take his father's hand, and they headed down the hill toward the ice cream van.

She shook her head. She hadn't really thought about marrying Gene in ages, and he was right. He had caught her unawares. She finally believed he wanted to marry her because he loved them, and she'd hurt him by laughing it off. Gene Hunt just wasn't a man she could really see herself married to. But regardless…if she turned him down, she owed him more than that.

Her eyes fell to the Walkman on the bench next to her. Curious, she flipped it open and slipped the tape out. A smile spread over her face when she read the title: "Stop Smoking in Six Easy Steps."

She looked down the hill to where Gene had lifted Sam up to look at the pictures on the side of the van. He wasn't perfect, but he was trying. And she loved him. Maybe he wasn't the type of man she would have chosen for herself in her old life, but her old life was gone, replaced by this one. Strange and wonderful. Maybe the old rules didn't apply.

She had a man who loved her, who loved their child. He was flawed and damaged, but he was smart, charming and fiercely loyal, too, and she knew he would protect them to the death, if he had to. She reckoned she was lucky. And happy.

She laughed out loud as she saw Sam and Gene head back up the hill towards her hand in hand. Sam had somehow managed to get ice cream on his forehead already. Gene smiled up at her raised a hand in a wave.

With tears in her eyes, she waved back, knowing what her answer would be when they reached her.

THE END


End file.
